


Reflections/Refractions

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gallifrey: Unbound, Gen, I want to make that a tag now, I'm Sorry, Season/Series 04, don't expect this to be serious, kind of, post 4.1 Reborn, pre 4.2 Disassembled, so technically possibly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 11:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: It's always interesting, seeing what's different on every world connected to the Axis. Sometimes, the Gallifrey on the other side is so similar to their own it's almost painful. Sometimes, there aren't any similarities at all. Sometimes it's a perfect reflection, sometimes everything is slightly different, refracted.And sometimes, it's just completely bizarre.





	Reflections/Refractions

**Author's Note:**

> Someone posted a suggestion, somewhere, for a story idea: in s4, the Gallifrey gang end up on a version of Gallifrey which is basically what people think the planet is like, when they first get in to New Who. 
> 
> I can't find who posted it- if anyone knows, let me know so that I can credit them properly for this.

 ‘Well, it looks like home. Very orange, though. That sky is practically blaze orange! It’s supposed to be far closer to tangerine at this time of day!’

Romana sighs. ‘Are you sure about that, Narvin? It looks pretty, well, orange, to me.’

‘What? There’s a major difference, you know! Are all of you blind? Ah- sorry, Leela. No offence.’

‘Is he telling the truth, for once? This place does smell right, to me, but I cannot see if the sky is wrong.’

Brax turns in a slow circle, taking in the scenery- the citadel off to one side, towering mountains in all other directions, capped with snow. Fields of long red grass extend seemingly endlessly. Two suns glare down, light reflecting off the silver leaves of the trees, giving the illusion of a forest on fire.

‘For all that it pains me to do so, I believe I must agree with Narvin. The sky is indeed several shades too dark for this time of day. Otherwise, however, the scenery is remarkably accurate. Perhaps somewhat less arid than we are used to, but accurate nonetheless.’

‘Really, Brax?’

‘My apologies, Lady President. But I _am_ the art collector in this merry band of fellows, so my opinion should count for something, no?’

 ‘How about we just head towards the citadel, and bicker about the colour of the sky on the way?’ Brax looks almost disappointed at Romana’s failure to give him an opportunity to share his expertise, but obediently falls into step with her, leaving Narvin and Leela to trail behind.

‘I can feel you glaring at Brax, you know.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, savage. You can’t feel someone glaring. And it’s not as if this is directed at you.’

‘Oh, Narvin. For a spy, you are a very easy person to read. I do not even need to be able to see you to do so.’

‘Hmmph.’

* * *

 

 

Arriving at the citadel, the differences become more obvious. Practically the entire city is constructed out of sandstone, rather than the slightly more variable styles of their home. The décor, too, is more tasteful than any of them expect. Brax in particular appears to be taking mental notes, perhaps planning an upgrade for when they finally return home.

The people, too, couldn’t be more different. For one, there appears to be only two kinds of dress: red robes, presumably adaptations of Prydonian scarlet and orange, or the mashup of off-worlder clothes typical of renegades. A squadron of Chancellery Guards wander past, their uniforms looking decidedly practical for anyone working for the Castellan. Even they are confined to crimson, though- none of the other chapters are present at all.

In the political districts, the overabundance of Prydon colours can be ignored quite easily. The renegades cannot. Especially when one of then immediately moves to approach the group.

‘Ah, it’s The President! Just the person I was hoping to see!’ Romana blinks once, then twice. The figure approaching her is dressed like a figure from the Baroque Era, and wouldn’t look particularly out of place in a painting in the Palace of Versailles. Not exactly the kind of person one expects to meet in the Panopticon. At least, not without an armed guard.

‘Oh? And what is it you wished to speak to me about, Lord-’

‘Me? Lord? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m The Architect!’

‘Of course, ah, Architect-’

‘Just The Architect. You know. Well, I had an idea, you see.’

‘Do tell.’

‘Well, I reckon the presidential offices are a bit plain, right? Well, have you ever heard of the Palace of Versailles? I know you have, especially since you’re here with The Collector-’

‘I’m sorry, the who?’

The Architect gestures towards Brax. ‘The Collector! He’s designed his whole asteroid around the place! Well, I was thinking we could do the same thing here. What d’you reckon? We don’t need to do the whole garden if we don’t want to, but we should at the very least organise some horse drawn carriages or something, my friend The Croupier can probably get a bunch real cheap-’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I’ve heard of “The Croupier” before.’

‘Oh, he’s new. Only stole his TARDIS a couple weeks back, but he seems to have learned the ropes pretty quickly. Anyhow. What do you think?’

‘Of the, ah, Palace of Versailles? Here? I suspect that it may be wise to consult a few others before proceeding with such an… ostentatious plan.’

He slumps, slightly. ‘Of course. You are The President.’

 

 

Romana stares dubiously at his retreating back. ‘Does anyone else get the feeling that there is something very odd going on here?’

‘Well, at least we know your alternate self is President, and presumably that means the rest of us are in charge, as well,’ Brax murmurs. ‘Although why he appeared to recognise me and not either Narvin or Leela is a bit of a mystery.’

‘But he didn’t recognise you, did he, Brax? Apparently, you’re someone called The Collector- a renegade, presumably. I didn’t realise you had it in you.’

‘Why, Narvin, I don’t believe I’ve seen any CIA presence on this planet. Your headquarters are supposed to be over there, no? Not the, ah, garden.’

‘Oh, this just gets better and better, doesn’t it? There’s been some kind of Cerulean revolution, there are _gardens_ in the Capital, and apparently the CIA was a casualty!’

‘I find that rather unlikely. That garden design is a distinctly Martian one, not something a Cerulean would come up with. And besides, it’s not like we’ve actually seen anyone from the Cerulean Chapter. Only Prydonians and renegades.’

‘You’re going to claim an innate knowledge of alien gardening as yet another one of your talents, aren’t you?’ 

‘But of course. Although, I must admit I expected you to be far more concerned about how that suggests a renegade is responsible for the loss of your Agency. I’m flattered by your interest.’

‘Wait’, Leela interrupts. ‘You say that you have not seen anyone from most of the Chapters?’

‘No, we haven’t. Everyone is either wearing red- not quite Prydonian red, but I don’t see what else it could be- or they’re dressed like renegades.’

‘Perhaps none of the other Chapters exist here. Maybe all Time Lords are Prydonians.’

Don’t be ridiculous, Leela’, Narvin splutters. ‘Such a society would be completely dysfunctional! No kind of Prydonian hierarchy would work for more than a day before they would begin bickering amongst themselves if they didn’t have someone else to order… around…’ Both Brax and Romana are glaring at him, now, and he hunches in on himself in the face of their combined ire. Leela snickers.

‘Well’, Romana drawls, there’s one simple way to test that hypothesis.’ Then, before any of the others can stop her, she marches up to a nearby renegade figure.

 

‘Hello. I was wondering if you could answer a couple questions for me.’

‘Of course! You’re The President! How can I help?’  
‘Ah, thank you-’

‘I’m The Landlady. A simple title, I know, but so many of the interesting ones were already taken.’

‘Of course. Thank you, Landlady. Well, we were looking into, ah, education reform, and I was surprised when my friend over there-’ she waves a hand in the general direction of The Architect- ‘was uninformed about several important aspects of Gallifreyan history. I was hoping you could answer a few questions. Help us gain a better understanding of what is known by an average citizen. The word on the street, so to speak.’

‘Well, I’d be happy to help.’

‘Yes?’

‘…’

‘…’

‘Oh, you want me to explain now. Of course! Well, we were the first race to develop time travel. Then the government decided not to interfere in the rest of the universe. But most of us just steal TARDISes and go to see it for ourselves.’

‘… I see. And what about the early history. Do you know about the founders?’

‘I sure do! There was Rassilon.’

‘yes, there was.’

‘Yep!’

‘… anyone else?’

‘hmm. I think there may have been someone called Omega? I’m not sure, though. These really are some difficult questions, President. I’m sure your education reforms will go well!’

‘I… Yes. They will. Thank you.’

‘No trouble at all, President. No trouble at all. You know, if you want to survey more people, I think I saw The Commentator around here not too long ago. I could go fetch him for you, if you like.’

‘The Commentator… Oh, Antimon, I presume?’

‘Really? Is that his name? Well, I assume if anyone would know it, you would, President! He’s just The Commentator to most of us. If I see him I’ll let him know you’re looking for him, though. The President, The Collector, and- who are your friends?’

‘Oh, this is, ah, The Coordinator. And this is Leela, she’s human.’

‘An alien? How exciting! Well, I hope you’re enjoying Gallifrey, dear. Although you’re probably finding it a bit slow. Why, I do miss the excitement of travelling, don’t you? But it is nice to come home once in a while.’

 

Brax tilts his head to the side, considering. ‘Curiouser and curiouser. Do they all know so little of their history, do you think?’

‘Perhaps more to the point, I don’t think I’ve ever met a renegade keen to return home before. The Doctor is always desperate to get away, and most of the others are no different.’

‘She called you The President.’

‘We’ve already been over this, Leela, it looks like this version of me is President as well.’

‘That is not what I mean! She called you The President. So did the first man we met. Neither of them said your name, almost like-’

‘They meant it as a title, like Doctor or Master.’

‘Exactly. I do not think it is just the renegades who chose their own names, here.’

Romana slumps against a wall in a manner most undignified for a President. ‘Well, at least it isn’t Imperiatrix, this time.’

‘Oh, what’s this about The Imperiatrix?’ a nearby figure asks. ‘Has she escaped again? I knew The Prince was going to be in league with her, I knew it, but did anyone listen? No, of course not. It’s not like me being called The Seer actually means anything, of course not.’

‘You can actually see the future?’

‘Of course I can, Coordinator. I don’t think you’ll be around for long, though. Bit of a pity, that. We could use someone like you to get some of these idiots into line. My, you wouldn’t believe what The Burner got up to the other day! And just because she’s in that stupid competition with The Baker and The Butcher over who can make the best pie. They need someone to straighten them out, they really do, and it certainly isn’t going to be me.’

 

‘We’re leaving. Now. This is ridiculous,’ Narvin growls, the moment The Seer has wandered off again.

‘It’s, ah, remarkably peaceful, compared to some of the other Gallifreys we’ve visited recently’, Romana hazards, glancing towards where The Architect is gesturing elaborately at a nearby wall, to a slowly gathering crowd of renegades. Several are nodding in approval, and a handful appear to be talking with the off-worlders scattered amongst them. Companions, presumably. Braxiatel spots a Killoran and a Draconian, both towering over their respective Time Lords, and Romana can’t quite hide her surprise at the presence of a rather elderly looking Tharil next to an equally elderly-looking woman dressed in Samurai garb. Suddenly, the fact that no one commented on Leela’s presence makes a great deal more sense.

‘No. It’s a whole planet full of renegades, Romana! Absolutely not!’

‘Oh, come on, haven’t you ever wanted to be called “The Coordinator”? I’m sure you’d have plenty of authority.’ For such a high-profile political figure, Romana is truly a terrible liar, and seems completely unable to keep her amusement from showing in her voice.

Narvin glares back. ‘With thousands of renegades to keep track of, all threatening the Web of Time. I’d basically be a glorified traffic controller, nothing would ever get done! Frankly, I’m surprised that this reality hasn’t collapsed in on itself already, and I think our best course of action is to leave before it does.’

‘Oh, all right. If you insist. I’d quite like to see that garden on the way out, though. If that’s fine with you, of course. It’s quite an improvement over the monstrosity of a building located there at home.’

Narvin glares at Romana, then shifts that glare to Leela when she lets out a huff of laughter. ‘I think’, she comments wryly, ‘that if you were not his President, Narvin would be plotting against you right now.’

‘Oh, who says he isn’t’, Romana replies. ‘Come along, Coordinator, Collector. We really do need to head back to the axis now. K-9 can’t keep the portal open forever.’

**Author's Note:**

> Glorified traffic controller, Narvin’s 18th favourite job in the Capitol. No wonder he was so desperate to leave.


End file.
